Red Tags
by FiveRoses
Summary: *Chapter 7: Red Sky at Night - Jane is coming apart a little at the seams, so Lisbon takes him in hand.* Episode tags to various episodes.
1. Redline

_I wrote this for Alamo Girl the day after _Redline _(S2E13) aired (because she said she wanted to know what happened after the end of the episode), but I wasn't planning to post it, since there's really not much to it. However, having discovered that writing episode tags is rather fun, I thought I'd post it and then add others for other episodes as the mood strikes._

* * *

**Speed Limits**

Jane cannot (dare not) express what he feels in words, even to himself. But he's always been a passionate adherent to the theory that actions speak louder than words. Sometimes the only way to find out how you feel is to stop thinking and see what happens.

It's a trait that Lisbon finds intensely annoying. She always thinks things through, tries to anticipate the consequences of her actions, stays in control.

Jane knows that you can't control the consequences. You just have to step back and see what happens. People surprise him more often than he'd ever admit. His plans rarely go the way he thinks they will. He might appear to play people like fiddles, but the truth is that most of the time he's flying by the seat of his pants. He enjoys the thrill of it. It's exhilarating not knowing quite what's going to happen next.

When Lisbon politely evades Mashburn's attentions, Jane feels a happiness (a relief) that he doesn't bother to analyse. Action is more his speed, and it currently comes in the form of a silver sports car. He turns on the full wattage of his charm, and Lisbon climbs in beside him with what can only be described as willingness. A willingness she wouldn't have shown if the car's owner had been the one to invite her – a fact that makes Jane (justifiably) smug.

So he twinkles his mischievous smile at her, puts his foot flat on the gas pedal and, with his usual air of confidence, shoots them out of their comfort zones and into the fast lane. She protests as expected, but Jane is behind the steering wheel for once and he's relishing his fleeting opportunity to be in control.

Lisbon minds less than she had anticipated. The law-abiding cop in her isn't putting up much of a fight against the thrill of the speed and the evident delight of the man beside her. 'So this is what fun feels like,' she thinks, with the small part of her brain that is still taking the trouble to think.

For appearances' sake she does tell him to slow down a few times, but her heart isn't in it. It's part of the game they always play for her to say things she doesn't mean even though they both know he doesn't believe her. It's become almost a reflex, part of their routine.

She doesn't know if it's taken seven and a half minutes or not, because she hasn't been paying any attention to the time. The table Jane has booked is on the terrace, under trailing vines and with a wonderful view. It brings back a sudden vivid memory from a previous case they had here in Napa: Jane on the phone asking for a reservation on the terrace because it's more romantic; and then having the gall to tell her not to fret, that he wouldn't seduce her over a meal.

She wonders if he remembers. (Of course he does.) She wonders if he's changed his mind.

Jane sees that she's remembered. She catches his look and knows that he's read her thoughts again. But she's reading his thoughts too, so she doesn't blush; she merely quirks her eyebrows at him and takes her seat. Sometimes being able to read each other's minds is rather peaceful. And it saves time.

It's nice to be able to just relax and order a meal. When Lisbon is on a case, she never accepts food or drink from the people they are interviewing. It wouldn't fit in with her way of doing things 100% by the book. Jane, of course, goes out of his way to do the opposite. He follows his own set of rules, and admittedly it works pretty well. Her method creates distance, emphasises her official capacity; his method puts people at ease, creates a repartee. They make a good team. Yin and yang.

But now it's just the two of them and they're not working. If it weren't completely inappropriate, she'd almost label it a date. Of course, having just spent the last few days wondering how to handle the fact that Rigsby and Van Pelt are blatantly breaking the no-dating rule and having eventually decided to overlook it (with a bit of unacknowledged help from Jane), she couldn't think of doing the same thing herself. That would be incredibly foolish, and she is not a foolish woman. Ergo, it is not a date.

But it is pleasant. The place is beautiful, the wine is expensive and the meal is delicious. And the company... well, the company is going out of his way to show her a good time. He's being witty and charming and he hasn't said a single intrusive or obnoxious thing the entire meal, which is almost certainly a record.

He talks to her about art and music, both subjects he knows a great deal about. He suggests they go to an art exhibition that is coming to San Francisco next month, or perhaps to the symphony, or both? Before her brain has time to stop her, she tells him that she'd like that. He smiles with such genuine happiness that she knows she can't take it back. And she's not particularly sorry.

He takes her back to her car via a very circuitous route. It takes a lot longer than seven and a half minutes, but this time neither of them is paying any attention to the time. Lisbon isn't even pretending not to have fun anymore. Jane is happier than he's been in a very long time.

He drops her off where he picked her up, and there is no need for them to do more than smile at each other and say goodbye.

Tomorrow they will work and bicker and she will drive. But next month they will go to an exhibition in Jane's car and he will buy her a meal and make her laugh and she will once again completely forget to be stern about the speed limit.


	2. Red Hair and Silver Tape

_Tag to _Red Hair and Silver Tape_ (S1E2), which is still my favourite episode to date. I love that _The Mentalist_ subverts the usual 'Knight in Shining Armour saves Damsel in Distress' into 'Lady-Knight in Shining SUV saves Gentleman in Jeopardy'. This episode was the best example of this, which is probably one of the reasons I love it so much._

_This gives Lisbon's POV during the critical stand-off scene near the end, since we mainly saw Jane's side of it and I've always wondered what it was like for Lisbon to be on the other end of that phone call. It starts from the point where she left the motel room._

* * *

**To The Rescue**

'Too much butter?!' Lisbon thought incredulously to herself as she strode to her car. 'That whole charade was based on a chef using too much butter! Now _I'm_ the one who has to go and soothe the ruffled feathers of that incompetent sheriff! Why me? Really, what did I do to deserve this?' She wondered for the umpteenth time how cleaning up Jane's messes had become a principal part of her job description.

Just as she was about to climb into her car, Lisbon's phone, predictably, began to ring.

She answered it with a "Hey."

"_Boss,_" Cho said.

"Yeah, I'll be right there."

She climbed into her car as she listened to Cho give a brief synopsis of what had just happened. She didn't bother to interrupt him to tell him that she'd already seen the whole debacle. Cho could always be relied upon to give the shortest version of any story, particularly when he was relaying bad news to his boss (something he'd had a fair bit of practise doing). When he started to give her directions, though, she interrupted with a terse, "Nah, I know where it is," and hung up.

She started her car and drove out of the motel parking lot and onto the main road. Now that she was alone, she was prepared to admit that what had happened was a tiny little bit funny. Rigsby to the rescue. Oh, dear. She allowed a little grin at the recollection. Granted the sheriff had just been trying to help, but he was one of those irritating characters that it's hard to really feel sorry for. The only thing Lisbon was actually sorry about was that she was going to have to be nice to the guy now. Schmoozing was her least favourite part of her job. She preferred to bark commands than to sweet-talk. Curbing her sarcastic tongue in the interests of political expediency was just plain hard work.

Her phone started to ring again. She glanced at it before answering. Jane. So much for her little peaceful interlude. He was probably wanting her to turn around and go back and fetch him. Well, too bad, he'd just have to wait. At least there was never any need to curb her tongue with him. She answered the phone, all ready to give him an unedited piece of her mind, when she heard him say, "_Stop. Think. Do not move. Whatever you do, do not move_." The phone was definitely on speaker-phone, as his voice had that slightly distant, disembodied quality about it. He wasn't talking to her.

Lisbon heart gave a strange little leap of fear, and she slammed her foot down on the brake pedal, thankful that the roads in this peaceful little backwater were so quiet and empty. In one smooth movement, she switched her phone onto speaker, dropped it onto the seat beside her, and spun her car in a U-turn back the way she had just come. The conversation in the motel drifted through to her.

"_What?_" A man's voice, but not loud enough for her to identify.

"_Do not move_." Jane was sounding a bit panicked. Lisbon pressed her foot flat on the gas.

"_Hey, no! Stop! Put that down! Stop!_" Lisbon knew that voice – the chef's wife. Dammit, Jane had been right after all – no doubt the wife's involvement was the theory he had been trying to tell her before she had cut him off. The woman sounded distinctly crazy. There were clunking noises which Lisbon couldn't quite identify, but it seemed that Jane was trying to get away.

Damn, damn, damn. How far away was she? She'd only been driving for about a minute before Jane called. He'd be all right for a minute, wouldn't he? He was Jane – he'd keep them talking till she got there. No need to lose her cool. She'd definitely be on time. Lisbon could feel her hands starting to shake slightly as she took a corner much too fast. Too much adrenaline.

She knew she should call Cho and request backup, but at the speed she was driving she dared not take her eyes off the road or her hands off the steering wheel. Besides, she didn't want to break contact with Jane. She needed to know he was okay; hear his voice. It suddenly felt as though it had been a lifetime since she'd seen him, rather than just a couple of minutes. Why had she left him alone? Her number one rule was to never leave Jane alone. Nothing good ever came of it.

"_What are you doing here?_" She recognised the chef's voice this time.

"_Think. Think._" 'Come on, Jane, stop saying that!' she thought, catching some of his panic, 'You're Patrick Jane: improvise, dammit!'

"_What are you doing here?_"

"_Does it matter? I'm here. This place is surrounded by police and CBI agents._" Yes, that was more like it! She wished it was true, but knew that even if she called for backup now, there was no way they could get there quickly enough to help her. The situation was too precarious; she was going to have to get in there as fast as possible and just do her best. Her stomach clenched slightly. If anything happened to Jane, she'd never forgive herself.

"_Oh, no._" The chef seemed to be the gullible type. Unfortunately, his wife was not. Lisbon was taking a rather violent dislike to her.

"_He's lying. They would be up here arresting us by now if they were here._" 'Yeah, lady,' she thought fiercely, 'give me about twenty seconds...'

"_SWAT. They're waiting on SWAT. There's no way out of this._" Thank heavens his brain seemed to have started working again. Though backing them into a corner wasn't necessarily the best policy.

"_There's nobody. Let's just kill them and get out of here._" 'No, no, no, no!' her thoughts were becoming almost incoherent with horror. 'Keep them talking, Jane! I'm nearly there.'

"_Woah, listen to me. You can walk away from all of this. No disrespect, but you're both clinically insane. You're not going to go to prison; you'll go to a hospital for a couple of years and then you can walk away._"

Lisbon pulled her car to an abrupt stop in front of the motel and didn't even bother to turn the engine off before she tumbled out the door, pulled out her gun and ran over to the motel room door. She could hear the yelling still going on inside. Without hesitating, she burst through the door, gun first.

Time slowed right down and everything suddenly seemed to be happening in slow motion, as though she was swimming underwater. She took in the scene, assessed the danger, focused on Malcolm bearing down on her with his knife poised to strike, took aim and shot twice, just as though she was at the shooting range. She didn't even notice Jane standing directly behind Malcolm or the way he ducked instinctively when she fired. He was not a threat so he didn't enter into her current calculations. Malcolm's wife, however, did. Lisbon's dance with death continued as she pivoted to deal with the next imminent threat to her life. One warning, one deadly shot, a second body on the floor, sudden silence.

It was as though all the air had been sucked out of the room. Jane and Lisbon stood, shocked and disoriented like the stunned survivors of some major disaster.

Ten seconds had passed. It felt like a lifetime.

Lisbon couldn't bring herself to do her standard check to make sure the suspects were dead and to secure their weapons. Instead she holstered her gun and focused on the woman who lay tied up on the floor. Here was a problem she could solve, so she crouched down beside her, murmuring comfortingly, and removed the duct tape from the woman's mouth and hands.

Only when she had done that, did she dare to look at Jane, her eyes still wide with shock. He was just as overwhelmed as she was, and dropped his gaze almost immediately, shaking his head.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Air and sound started to filter back into the world. Lisbon skirted Malcolm's body and went to fetch her phone so that she could start dealing with the aftermath. She found a certain comfort in her routines and procedures. They created distance between her and the death that she had created on the motel room floor. They were her justification.

Jane, with fewer resources to fall back on, escaped outside. He offered no comfort to either the kidnapped woman or Lisbon. His way of coping and creating space was to literally walk away. He didn't watch Lisbon as she competently took charge of the scene. He went and stood out of the way and looked up at the clouds scudding across the sky and wondered why he hadn't wanted to die. Why, in that moment when death had loomed, had he wanted to live with every fibre of his being? He couldn't make sense of it, but, despite everything, he was glad that he was still standing here, gazing at the sky, alive.

'I must thank Lisbon some day,' he thought vaguely.

0000

Later that day, as they were leaving Melanie's funeral, Jane finally recovered his equilibrium enough to notice that Lisbon was perhaps not coping quite as well as she appeared to be. In moments like these he realised with great clarity why Lisbon was so passionate about the rules that bound her profession. Her job handed her such frightening power over the lives of others that she was even expected to kill when the circumstances called for it. What a terrible burden. Lisbon coped by leaving the bulk of that burden on the people who created the rules in the first place – as long as she stayed within the boundaries they set, the responsibility for the terrible consequences was not truly hers. It was the only way she could do what she did and not break.

Jane knew that, rules or no rules, Lisbon was deeply upset by what she had had to do that day. He might not have the words yet to thank her, but he could end the shocked state of isolation into which they had both retreated. He reached out and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, reminding her that he was still alive because of her. Lisbon didn't acknowledge the gesture, but Jane saw a subtle change in her body language, as though she had been holding her breath all this time, and had finally released it.

He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze and then let go. This time when Lisbon looked over at him, he didn't drop his gaze. Taking in his expression, she received the silent message he was trying to send her.

'You are not alone.'


	3. Red Badge

_Two missing scenes from _Red Badge _(S2E3) – needless to say, another favourite episode! Mainly Jane's POV. _

_"Secretive" fits between the scene where they find the body and the one where Jane is pretending to read Lisbon's mind. _

_"Know Your Audience" belongs between the scene where Lisbon asks Jane to leave her apartment after he hypnotises her and the one where she loses it in the office._

* * *

**1. Secretive**

Magicians are a secretive bunch. Most people you meet are eager to tell you every boring detail about what they do, no matter how dull their job is, but magicians may as well work for a secret government agency for all the information you'll get out of them. After all, their magic is dependent on their audience not knowing how the trick works. The secret must therefore be guarded and the trick practised to perfection before it is shown to a wondering public. To reveal the secret, whether intentionally by explaining it, or accidentally by performing the trick so badly that the audience can see how it is done, spoils the magic for everyone, performer and audience alike. People want to be amazed, and magicians are there to give them what they want.

Patrick Jane had been a performer and a wonder worker his whole life. As a result, secretiveness had seeped into the deepest crevices of his psyche, pervading everything he did. He found it almost impossible to switch off the persona of entertainer and worker of magic. To constantly delight and amaze everyone around him was his oxygen, without which he could not survive. Or, at any rate, that was how it often felt to him.

Magicians manage to make people forget that in order to make what they do look so easy they have to work as hard and practise as constantly as anyone else does. Magic is their concert piano or basketball court. While Jane had always had a brilliant mind and been a gifted observer, he had had to work hard to perfect his art. For every sleight of hand trick he did or mentalist mind game he played he had put in countless hours of diligent labour which he could neither explain to anyone nor boast about. It was a critical part of the magic to make something that should be impossible appear natural, easy and effortless. Therein lay the magician's mystique.

0000

Jane was intrigued. Lisbon had been acting strangely ever since they had found William McTeer's body and Jane wanted to know why. Clearly this case had special significance for her, and he intended to find out what it was.

He could have asked Van Pelt to look it up for him (as he did whenever really dull research was required) or used one of the office computers to look it up himself (since this was anything but dull), but the art of appearing all-knowing requires that you do your research and studies in secret. To this end, Jane kept a small laptop tucked away under the passenger seat of his car. He didn't have much of an affinity for technology, but acknowledged the fact that when everyone around you has access to unlimited amounts of information all the time, a person who intends to impress with his brilliance and knowledge can't afford not to take advantage of the same resource that everyone else is using. He wasn't a person given to surfing the net for the sheer entertainment of it, but he did value it as a quick and useful source of information.

When the team arrived back at the CBI headquarters, therefore, Jane slipped away and collected his laptop from his car. He went to a small coffee shop down the street, settled himself at one of the tables and began a quick internet search for Lisbon and William McTeer. He felt strangely guilty doing a computer search on Lisbon, but also found it a little exciting. He hadn't previously thought to find out more about her this way, but now that he had, he knew that when he got home that evening he was going to expand his research and find out as much about her as the internet had to offer. Jane was not a man to deny his own curiosity.

For the time being, though, he confined himself to reports on the William McTeer case. What he found interested him a great deal. He quickly absorbed all the available case-related information, but this was merely a side-dish for him. The main course was Lisbon, or 'Saint Teresa' as the newspaper articles had dubbed her. Not only did he discover that the case had made her career, but he also found information that didn't please him at all. He discovered that Lisbon's supervisor at the SFPD had been none other than Samuel Bosco, a fact that Lisbon had neglected to mention.

Jane read Bosco's words of praise for Lisbon, and found himself grinding his teeth ever so slightly. The quotes burned themselves into his brain, igniting a stinging jealousy within him. It surprised him to realise how annoyed he was to find that Bosco had known Lisbon so much longer than he had, and had played such a formative role in her life. Jane was not happy. Sharing Lisbon was not an option, especially with someone he disliked as much as he did Bosco.

He shut down his computer and bought some coffees for his colleagues (his excuse for his absence) in a thoughtful frame of mind. He needed to connect with Lisbon; to assure himself (and her) that what he had with her was special; that she really was his.

He remembered how she had blushed the last time he had done a mind-reading game with her; how cutely flustered she had become. Yes, a mind-reading exercise would be just the thing. Certainly Bosco would have never done anything of the kind with her. It was his thing with Lisbon; a perfect way to connect. And, with a bit of luck, he might be able to discompose her again and get her to reveal more about herself and her past than she would in the normal course of events. He could throw her off balance with his newly acquired knowledge, and see what she said.

With a sense of purpose, Jane set off back to the office, stowing his computer once again in its hidey-hole on his way. He was a man on a mission...

* * *

**2. Know Your Audience**

Jane stood outside Lisbon's door, irresolute. It surprised him how shaken up and disoriented he felt at seeing Lisbon so distressed. He had become so accustomed to her strength and her habit of masking her other emotions with anger that it was disconcerting to see her vulnerable and upset. Jane had never seen her cry before.

He had followed her to her house in his own car, and now he went and sat in it to think things through. Clearly Lisbon needed his help to clear her name. Jane couldn't even begin to contemplate losing her like this – it was unthinkable that she could be taken away from him forever by a miscarriage of justice. He needed her. Far more than he cared to acknowledge.

At least Jane was now quite certain that Lisbon was innocent. She had been set up; the hypnosis proved it. He knew that the only way Lisbon could have so completely lost her memory of the evening's events was if she had been drugged in some way without her knowledge.

Jane ran his nimble mind over some drugs he knew about that could fit the bill. Lorazepam was his most likely suspect, but just to be safe he fished his laptop out from under the seat and did a thorough search for all the possible drugs. Finally satisfied that Lorazepam did indeed fit best, he carefully read through all the effects and side-effects of the drug and compared them with Lisbon's behaviour recently.

It actually explained such a lot. Lisbon had definitely been behaving unusually for the past several weeks, but Jane, himself distracted, had assumed that it was part of the aftermath of the 'Tanner incident', as Minelli called it. Certainly he hadn't been behaving the same since then either, and admittedly he hadn't been as observant of Lisbon as he normally was. Jane suddenly felt distinctly ashamed of himself. For perhaps the first time since he had known her, Lisbon had actually needed him and his intrusively observant ways, and he had gone and dropped the ball. Let her down. Failed. Again.

Well, it wasn't too late. He could fix this.

He focused on the list of effects of the drug, suddenly as concerned about Lisbon's health as all her other troubles. Lorazepam was supposed to have a calming effect, but given in sufficiently high doses it can have the opposite effect, increasing aggression, hostility and angry outbursts, especially in the face of frustrating circumstances. Well, Lisbon had no shortage of frustrating circumstances in her life – Jane usually topped the list by a comfortable margin, but perhaps being accused of murder had temporarily toppled him from his top spot. Certainly she had been behaving with a more erratic aggression lately. She had always been easily annoyed, but recently she hadn't been controlling her temper nearly as well as she usually did under provocation.

The sedative and hypnotic effects interested Jane. He had just discovered firsthand how easy it currently was to hypnotise Lisbon, something he wouldn't normally have expected of her. She had a high threshold and with all her control issues, he had thought it would be very difficult to get her under, even with her consent. When she had so readily slipped under his spell, he had immediately known that something wasn't right. In fact, now that he was thinking about it, Lisbon had been far more suggestible in recent weeks than she normally was. It seems that she had been drinking the Kool-Aid after all. Only he hadn't been the one giving it to her.

A high dosage could also cause memory loss, but she would have had to have taken the drug some time earlier the same day for it to have worked. Lisbon had been in the office all day Tuesday, not even bothering to go out and get herself any food. That meant that whoever had given her the drug had to have been inside the CBI, and he would have had to put it in her drink (since she hadn't eaten anything). Jane frowned. Someone in the office had laced Lisbon's coffee with Lorazepam. Since no-one else had been affected, it must have been put directly into her cup, which meant that the person must have made the coffee for her. Who would Lisbon unquestioningly accept a cup of coffee from on a fairly regular basis outside of her own team?

Bosco, Jane thought with a certain amount of spite. But Jane knew that Bosco would be no more likely to harm Lisbon than Van Pelt would. Besides, where would Bosco get a strong prescription drug like that from? Only pharmacists and psychiatrists have ready access to such drugs.

Carmen. As soon as Jane made the connection, it seemed so obvious. Carmen, who had been forcing Lisbon to visit him week after week ever since the Tanner shooting, even though she clearly didn't want or need counselling. Carmen, whose coffee she would drink as an excuse not to talk, and who could monitor exactly how much of the drug she was taking and assess the effect it was having. Carmen, her psychiatrist, whom she should have been able to trust.

She's never going to trust anyone again, Jane thought despondently.

Why had Carmen done it? Jane was running over the possibilities when he got a call from Cho to tell him that they had found out that 'Dog' had been paid $10,000 to lure McTeer into the alley where he was shot. Had the murderer paid 'Dog' or had the murderer also been hired by a third party? Jane suddenly felt quite certain that Carmen had committed the murder and had been paid handsomely for it. It was one of those hunches that Lisbon disliked so much because he couldn't really explain them. He just knew.

Right now, Jane didn't care who had done the hiring; first he had to prove that Carmen was guilty, not Lisbon. The most important person to prove it to was Lisbon herself. She was still alone in her home, stewing over the fact that she couldn't remember what she had done that fateful night. He needed to set her mind at rest.

Jane jumped out of his car and went and knocked on Lisbon's door. She opened it a little reluctantly, but Jane was relieved to see that she had regained her composure.

"I have an idea," Jane said.

"Just one?" Lisbon raised her eyebrows sarcastically.

"Several, actually," he said, stepping into the room.

Resigned, Lisbon led him into her sitting room.

Jane ran through everything he had worked out over the past half hour. Lisbon's expression lightened noticeably during his recital, as though a fearsome burden was lifting off her.

"Why are you so sure Carmen is the killer? He could just be helping the killer to set me up," Lisbon asked, reasonably enough.

"It was him," Jane said firmly, "but even if he's just an accomplice, we're going to use him to prove that you're innocent."

Lisbon was starting to look concerned again.

"How?" she asked cautiously.

Jane grinned.

"Have you got any hard liquor lying about?" he said. "Oh, and your off-duty weapon?"

Now Lisbon was definitely looking worried.

"Why?"

"One of the adverse effects of Lorazepam is that it can bring out suicidal tendencies in susceptible people. Alcohol interacts with it and makes the effects even more pronounced. We want to convince Carmen that you're suicidal to draw him out and make him do or say something incriminating. We'll need the confrontation to take place far away from all those interfering CBI agents at the office, though, so we need to get him here somehow. If Minelli thinks you're having a breakdown, he'll send Carmen to you."

Lisbon didn't look happy at the direction this was taking.

"You need to fake a breakdown at the office! That'll convince Minelli, especially if I give him a little nudge in the right direction," Jane said, finally thinking his plan through to its logical conclusion. "Don't worry, I'll teach you everything you'll need to know. A convincing act is just a matter of knowing your audience."

Jane beamed at Lisbon, who was looking at him like he was nuts.

"So basically you want me to go to work, where everyone already thinks I murdered someone, and also convince them that I'm crazy and possibly suicidal," she summed up.

Jane smiled cheerfully. Sounded like a brilliant plan to him. One of his best, even if he said so himself.

Lisbon sighed. She didn't know why she ever even bothered fighting against the inevitable. Jane knew his audience too well. He could see that she was so desperate to clear her name that she'd do almost anything he suggested, even something as apparently counterproductive and potentially damaging as the plan he'd just sketched out.

"Okay, maestro, teach me your skills," she said.

Jane smiled. Much as he enjoyed performing, he _had_ always wanted to direct.


	4. Red Bricks and Ivy

_A tag for _Red Bricks and Ivy_ (S1E10). This carries on from the final scene, which I'm sure you all remember goes as follows:_

LISBON: Aw. Jane kissed a girl.

JANE: Well, yeah... yeah. On the cheek.

LISBON (_teasing_): Still counts.

JANE: Counts as what?

LISBON: Nothing. Just saying. (_Jane gets into the car. Lisbon looks at him, concerned_.) You want to drive?

JANE: Well, that's a very sweet offer. Do I really seem so sad?

LISBON: What? I was just asking if you wanted to drive.

JANE: You don't like it when I drive. You despise it.

LISBON: You drive way too fast.

JANE: I drive just fast enough. You hate not being the one in control and yet you're willing to overcome your irrational fears to cheer me up. That's a beautiful thing, Lisbon. Thank you, I'd love to drive.

LISBON: Never mind. (_She starts the car, and they drive off_.)

* * *

**A Very Tiny Little Detour**

Jane glanced sideways at Lisbon as she drove, and thought about what she'd said about the kiss "counting". She was right, of course, the kiss did count for something. He had kissed Sophie goodbye because a) she had saved his life by pulling him back from the abyss he had almost fallen into after he lost his family, and b) he wasn't planning on ever seeing her again. The only reason he had helped her in the first place, despite the fact that seeing her reminded him of the darkest time of his life, was because he felt he owed her. Having repaid his debt, he had sealed it with a kiss. A final farewell to an epoch in his life.

Of course, since he'd needed Lisbon's help in order to repay Sophie, all he had really done was transfer the debt from one woman to the other. But he reasoned that he already owed Lisbon his life so many times over that he'd never be able to even the odds. Might as well keep all his debt in one place. Besides, she represented something very different to him. Sophie reminded him of despair; Lisbon, who on his good days almost had him believing in redemption, stood for the dawning possibility of hope.

"You know," he said, "it was rather cruel of you to dangle the carrot of driving in front of me, only to snatch it away again." He paused briefly for effect, then added, "You could make it up to me, though."

Lisbon threw him a sceptical glance.

"By...?"

"Taking a very tiny little detour."

"How tiny?" Lisbon hated detours. She was like a horse heading towards its stable at supper time – it was extremely difficult for a passenger to deflect her off the beaten track and onto a more scenic route, and virtually impossible for them to get her to stop for any reason.

"Seriously, Lisbon, it'll take five minutes out of your day. Please."

She didn't need to look at him to know he was doing his beseeching you-owe-me-at-least-this-much face. She sighed.

"Is that five minutes as in 300 seconds, or five minutes as in really half an hour but you know I'll say no if you tell me the truth?"

"Okay, in the interests of full disclosure, it might take ten minutes if there are any hold-ups, but all things being equal, it _shouldn't_ take more than 300 seconds."

Lisbon gave in, as they had both known she would. Jane could tell she was feeling a little guilty for not letting him drive. Guilt, as he well knew, is a powerful motivator.

Jane directed them slightly off their route onto a smaller road that Lisbon wasn't familiar with. After a few miles they drove through a little cluster of houses, some of which seemed to double as businesses. Jane asked Lisbon to pull over, which she very reluctantly did. He hopped out of the car and disappeared into one of the buildings at a respectable speed. He was, after all, on the clock.

When Jane re-emerged a few minutes later, he was carrying a pretty posy of country flowers. He climbed in next to Lisbon and handed them to her with a slight flourish. Lisbon looked at him in confusion.

"What is this?"

"Flowers, Lisbon."

She glared at him.

"I realise that they're flowers, Jane. What are they for?"

"You, of course."

Why did he always have to be such hard work?

"Let me rephrase. Why are you giving them to me?"

Jane pointed to some sweet little pink flowers that were scattered throughout the posy.

"Those flowers, the florist tells me, go by the charming name 'Kiss Me Quick'."

He smiled at Lisbon, as though that explained everything. She gave him her deer-caught-in-the-headlights look, so he took pity and explained properly.

"I gave Sophie a kiss because she saved my life once, so it seemed only fair that I give you a whole bunch of kisses, since you've saved me a whole bunch of times. I didn't want you to feel underappreciated or taken for granted."

He suddenly dropped his teasing expression and added seriously.

"I know I don't say it very often, but I hope you know how much I appreciate everything you do for me, Lisbon. Especially these last few days, taking on this case and pushing me to find the truth even when I was looking for an easy way out. You're a good friend."

Lisbon lifted the flowers to her face and inhaled the heady fragrance. She was very touched by both the gesture and his words.

"Thank you, Jane. They're lovely."

"And for the record," Jane added, "this only took longer than five minutes because you insisted on having a chat about it."

Lisbon sighed and started the car. Nice moments with Jane were always so fleeting, but she was smart enough to realise that the fact that he always intentionally sabotaged their 'moments' was really rather flattering.

And she loved the flowers.


	5. Code Red

_A very short little tag for Code Red (S2E16), because who can resist? I started with their conversation in the final scene of the episode and carried on from there._

* * *

**Someday**

"Long day!" Jane said cheerily, joining Lisbon by the elevator. Lisbon gave him a Look. "Hmm, chilly round here. You still angry with me?"

"Duh," Lisbon said, glowering at him.

"Well, confess – you do feel better. You feel much more alive, I know you do!"

They stepped onto the elevator together.

"You know what made me feel better?" Lisbon said, grinning at the recollection. "Punching you in the nose."

"Ah," Jane said, smiling in return, "glad to be of service."

Lisbon gave him an amused, appraising glance as the elevator started its brief downward journey.

"Are you now? Well, since you're so eager to help, I might just make it a regular thing. It _was_ very therapeutic and would be the perfect pick-me-up whenever I'm having a bad day." She smiled serenely at him and stepped off the elevator as the doors opened on the ground floor.

Jane, suddenly looking a lot less happy, reached up and patted his tender nose with sympathetic concern. He was about 95% sure that Lisbon was just teasing him – one of her ways of getting back at him, no doubt – but on the outside chance she wasn't joking, his body was reacting with a slightly queasy feeling of anxiety. She threw a mean punch, and he really didn't want to be on the receiving end of one ever again.

Lisbon walked out of the CBI building, feeling rather pleased with herself. She hadn't missed the little spark of alarm on Jane's face, which was more than she ever got from him when she was yelling at him. It felt great to have literally punched the smirk off his face for a change. She didn't expect the effects to last for very long, but planned to enjoy them while she could. A chastened Jane was something she often fantasized about but rarely achieved.

She climbed into her car, and paused for a moment to take stock of her day. Jane was right about one thing – thinking you're about to die does make you re-evaluate your life and see things in a different light. She wasn't sure whether she agreed that it was life-affirming, but it certainly focused the mind wonderfully, ridding it of everything that wasn't important and re-prioritising whatever was left. And reuniting her family had prioritised itself as the single most important thing that she wished she had done while she'd had the chance.

Well, she had the chance now, and knew that she needed to act while the urgency of her near-death experience was still fresh. She started her car, mentally steeling herself for her upcoming meeting with the brother she hadn't seen in far too long. At the back of her mind, she felt a slight flutter of gratitude towards Jane for finding a way to finally propel her into long overdue action. She was the kind of person who practically needed a bomb to be placed under her to get her to confront difficult interpersonal issues, and Jane was the only person she knew who would not only take such an idiom perfectly literally, but also be willing to act on it. She did recognise the genuine concern he felt for her and his very real desire to help. She might even thank him for that... someday.

Jane watched Lisbon leave the building and knew that she was going to talk to her brother. He briefly considered following her, but the pain in his nose made him refrain. He smiled slightly – Lisbon would be very happy to know that her punch had had such a salutary effect on his behaviour. Best she never found out or she'd be further encouraged to make good on her threat to use him as a regular stress-relieving punching bag.

Instead of following her, he drove home and spent the night wondering what he would have said to Lisbon if he really had thought he was dying. He suspected that Bosco had told her that he loved her right before he died, so she was no stranger to emotional death-bed confessions. Jane was nothing if not competitive – if Bosco had told her he loved her, what could he say to her to top that? Exasperation followed immediately on that thought. What was the matter with him? This wasn't a competition. What did he _really_ feel about her and what would he want her to know?

He lay in his bed thinking dreamily about the way she had smiled at him when he had told her that she was the person he'd want to call if he was dying. In a whole day of non-stop drama and mayhem, that was the moment that stood out most clearly in his memory. Lisbon's smile.

Yes, if he was dying he would want her to know that she was the most important person in the world to him. And perhaps he would even be brave enough to tell her exactly how beautiful and valiant and compassionate and funny and intelligent and utterly charming he thought she was. He certainly hoped he'd be brave enough, because it would be a great shame if she never knew. Of course, it would be even better if he were to tell her those things without the threat of imminent death hanging over his head, but he knew that he wasn't yet ready. But he did rather hope that he would be... someday.


	6. Rose Coloured Glasses

_Warning: cliché alert! But I guess clichés became clichés for a reason, right? And no matter how hard we try, 'original fanfic' will always be an oxymoron! This idea kind of spun off from one of the questions/answers I used in my fic "The Questionnaire" (though the fics are completely unrelated). I'm posting it as a tag to S2E11 "Rose-Coloured Glasses", set at some indeterminate time after the events of that episode. I'm sure there have already been a million tags written to the famous dance scene, but, hey, here's one more. _

_By the way, I've put song names and quotes from songs in italics, but Jane and Lisbon are just speaking the lyrics, not singing them!_

_

* * *

_

**More Than Words**

"Oooh," Jane said, turning up the volume on the radio. "They're playing our song."

In the backseat, the rest of the team sat up interestedly. Lisbon threw Jane an incredulous look.

"Our song? How is this our song?" She turned the volume back down.

"It's the song we danced to, Lisbon. Don't pretend you've forgotten, because I know you haven't." If Lisbon was going to be difficult, Jane was quite happy to meet her halfway.

"And that makes it our song how?" Lisbon asked snippily. She could almost feel the three in the back leaning forward to ensure they didn't miss a single word of the conversation.

"Relationship 101, Lisbon. When two people form some kind of a connection while a particular song is playing – for instance by slow-dancing together for the first time – voila, it becomes their song."

"That only applies in romantic relationships, Jane!" Lisbon was becoming endearingly flustered. Of all the many lights and shades of her moods, this was easily one of his favourites.

"Not so, Lisbon. Countries and schools have special songs. Families have special songs. Even friends have special songs. And this is ours." He turned the volume up again.

"Have you even listened to the words?" Lisbon demanded. "And I'm the one who loved this song, not you. You hadn't even heard it before!"

"Well, I know it now. _More Than Words_ by Extreme, first released in 1991. And the lyrics are..."

"Never mind, I believe you," Lisbon interrupted hurriedly. The last thing she needed was Jane reciting the lyrics to her.

To her relief, the song finished playing.

"Hey, Van Pelt," Jane said over his shoulder, "how do I download that song onto my phone? Lisbon was talking the whole way through and I'd like to play it again without interruptions."

He passed his phone over his shoulder to Van Pelt, who took it with a grin.

"If you want us to have a song, Jane," Lisbon said, attempting some damage control for a situation that had spun way out of her control, "let's pick something a little more appropriate."

"Hmm, okay, how about a Spice Girls song? They're usually very catchy," Jane suggested, smiling at her like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

Lisbon was fortuitously preoccupied with a negotiating a busy intersection just then, so her murderous look was somewhat wasted on the hapless traffic.

"I thought your first suggestion would be something from _High School Musical_," she said, acidly. "That way you'd get both a song _and_ a dance – and we all know how you love leading us a merry dance."

"You know, it's dangerous to drive and be witty at the same time, Lisbon. And as I recall, you seem to rather like dancing with me. But speaking of musicals, I have to admit that they are a veritable treasure trove of songs."

"_Just you wait, 'enry 'iggins, just you wait...,_" Lisbon said, feelingly.

"_Why can't a woman be more like a man?"_

"_How_ _Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?_ It's really quite a pity your name has the wrong number of syllables."

"_How do you solve a problem like Teresa?_ works nicely, though." Lisbon glared at him, so he decided to change tacks. "_I'd do anything for you, dear, anything.._" He shot Lisbon a little side-long glance, interested to see what she'd do with that.

"_Would you lace my shoe?_," she said, picking up her cue.

Jane grinned.

"_Anything_," he said.

"_Paint your face bright blue?_"

"_Anything._"

"_Catch a kangaroo?_"

"_Anything._"

"_Go to Timbuktu?_"

"_And back again._"

"Or, you know, you could stay there."

"Lisbon, you've ruined the song now!"

"Well, it was never suitable anyway. You _never_ do anything I ask you to do."

"Okay, what song do you suggest, then?"

"_Had a Bad Day_?"

"Funny, Lisbon, but if we're going that route I think I'd prefer _Don't Worry, Be Happy_, if it's all the same with you."

"You would!" Lisbon retorted. "How about _One way or another, I'm gonna find ya, I'm gonna getcha getcha getcha getcha_? We could make it our team's crime-solving theme song."

"Oh sure, Lisbon. A _team_ song about _crime-solving_." Jane gave her a suggestive grin and got an exasperated snort in return. When she stomped with somewhat unnecessary force on the brake at the next red light, he added, "What about _In My Car I'll Be the Driver_? Suits us down to the ground."

"How about _Man Smart, Woman Smarter_?" Lisbon countered. "Suits us even better."

Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt sat in the back, their eyes going backwards and forwards between Jane and Lisbon like they were watching a tennis match. They wouldn't have dreamt of interrupting with their own suggestions – they were having far too much fun. Cho had his notebook out and was giving Jane and Lisbon points. Lisbon had just edged slightly ahead.

Jane was busy trying to suppress his instinctive urge to defend his unsurpassed genius. He knew Lisbon was intentionally teasing him; knew that she knew he was stewing at the suggestion that she was smarter than he was; knew that she was thoroughly enjoying herself. Jane was so busy stopping himself from making an ass of himself that he forgot it was his turn to make a quip. Van Pelt saved him from his predicament.

"Here you go, Jane," she said, handing him back his phone. "_More Than Words_ downloaded for your listening pleasure."

"That was quick," Jane said, impressed.

"I have an account," she explained. "It's really easy."

"How much do I owe you?"

"I think I can spare a dollar for such a worthy cause," Van Pelt said with a grin.

"Don't encourage him, Van Pelt!" Lisbon's tone was exasperated.

"Sorry, Boss." Van Pelt shrank back in her seat and tried to look inconspicuous.

Into the uneasy silence that had fallen, Jane started to play _More Than Words_ again. Though Lisbon wasn't about to admit it, Jane was right. Ever since they had slow-danced to the song, hearing it always immediately transported her back into his arms. Apparently the same was true for him, because after a few bars he said to her, "I'm afraid, Lisbon, that this is indubitably and unchangeably our song. I know how you like to control things, but special songs are born, not made. There's really nothing you can do about it."

Lisbon just sighed and shook her head in a defeated kind of way. Jane was _such_ an exhausting man. The team, realising that Lisbon had abandoned the argument, reluctantly returned to their usual pursuits of fiddling with their phones, reading and gazing out of the window.

As the song got to the line '_just reach out your hands and touch me'_, Jane, unnoticed by those in the back, reached across and brushed his fingers across Lisbon's hand, which was resting on the gear-stick.

Lisbon flicked him a brief, startled glance and Jane gave her a very tiny, but completely genuine smile, which was mostly in his eyes.

And without having to say anything, they both knew that _More Than Words_ was now officially and irrevocably their song.

THE END

* * *

_I also quite like "When You Say Nothing At All" by Ronan Keating for these two, but I don't think either of them would have suggested it!_

_More Than Words _by Extreme; _Just You Wait & Why Can't a Woman be More Like a Man?_ from_ My Fair Lady; __How do You Solve a Problem Like Maria? _from_ The Sound of Music; __I'd Do Anything _from_ Oliver!; __Bad Day _by Daniel Powter; _Don't Worry, Be Happy _by Bobby McFerrin; _One Way or Another _by Blondie; _In My Car (I'll be the Driver) _by Shania Twain; _Man Smart, Woman Smarter _performed by The Carpenters (the version I know) or Grateful Dead


	7. Red Sky at Night

_A brief tag to S3E1 "Red Sky at Night". Set immediately after the final scene, as Jane and Lisbon are driving away._

_

* * *

_

**Humpty Dumpty**

"This isn't the way back to the CBI. Where are we going now?"

"To your apartment."

Jane blinked, uncharacteristically confused.

"One minute you're saying you don't want me pulling away, and the next minute you're trying to get rid of me? Fickle woman."

"It's not you I'm trying to get rid of, but rather that unwashed smell that you've been working on so assiduously the last few days. You haven't changed your clothes all week, and I'm guessing you haven't showered or shaved either. When did you last go home, anyway?"

"Since when is my personal hygiene any of your business?"

"Since I have to spend most of every day with you, quite a lot of it in enclosed spaces. Besides, do you really want people to start taking note of the fact that you've stopped bathing? You can get away with poor eating and sleeping habits, but people will start questioning your mental health if you start falling apart in such an obvious way. I imagine that's something you're wanting to avoid."

There was a moment of silence.

"Look," Lisbon added, when Jane didn't respond, "I know you've 'had a lot on your mind', as you put it, but you still need to eat and sleep and wash and work. I would much prefer not to have to make you do those things, but I will if I must."

"Because we're family?" Jane asked, his voice slightly strained.

"Yes," Lisbon said shortly, pulling up outside his apartment block.

"You know, my car is back at the office."

"I wasn't planning on stranding you here," Lisbon replied. "I'll wait in the car while you shower and change. Make it snappy."

"You're not going to tell me to clean behind my ears and between my toes?"

"I assumed that was a given," Lisbon said, making a face at him. "Hurry up, Jane, I don't have all day."

Jane grinned at her, then jumped out of the car and disappeared into the building. As soon as he was out of sight, Lisbon started her car again and drove a few blocks down the street to a small café that sold take-away meals. She ordered a huge breakfast for Jane, as well as tea and a coffee for herself. She had only been back outside his apartment building for a couple of minutes when he re-emerged looking considerably better than he had when he went in. In a crisp, fresh suit, with his curls damp and his face clean-shaven, he looked far less care-worn and more like the irrepressible Jane that she had grown accustomed to over the years. He also, she discovered when he opened the car door and got in, smelled delicious.

"Better?" Jane enquired.

"Much," she said, and handed him his breakfast and tea. "Eat this."

Jane looked at Lisbon for a long moment.

"Where's your food?" he asked.

"I've already had breakfast," Lisbon said, starting the car. "Hours ago."

"A tiny yoghurt doesn't count as breakfast," Jane said, his voice reproving. He opened the takeaway container and eyed the meal with some satisfaction. "There's more than enough here for two. Provided, of course, that one of the two isn't Rigsby."

Lisbon tried to protest when Jane shoved a forkful of food towards her mouth, but she gave in pretty quickly in the face of his determination and the fact that the tantalising smells had actually been making her rather hungry.

"So," she said, as he tucked happily into his food, "am I going to have to escort you home every evening and make sure you look after yourself?"

"Much as I'm enjoying this whole mothering thing you've got going on, Lisbon, I think I can take it from here."

"Okay," she said, rather relieved, "but I will be keeping an eye on you, Jane."

"I'd expect nothing less, Lisbon," Jane said agreeably, the shower and the food having apparently done wonders for his mood.

00000

Hightower watched as Lisbon and Jane walked towards the bullpen. Jane was looking much better than he had in a while and he was even smiling at Lisbon with some of his old teasing charm, which had been largely missing since his most recent encounter with Red John.

Hightower was relieved. Having finally seen first-hand the effects that a Red John case had on Jane, she had come to realise how much less stable he was than she had originally believed, and also how little influence anyone other than Lisbon had over him. It seemed as though Lisbon had succeeded in putting Humpty Dumpty back together again for the time being. Hightower wondered how long it would last...


End file.
